Harper's Round Table, October 8, 1895 Part 6

It is enjoyable to read a good story of the biter being bitten, and the following one may not be amiss:

A cla.s.s of students, holding a grudge against one of the professors, tied a live goose to his chair. Upon entering the room the professor saw the goose, and calmly walking up to the desk, addressed the cla.s.s as follows:

"Gentlemen, as you have succeeded in getting an instructor so much better qualified to direct the bent of your ideas, I beg you will pardon me for resigning the chair."

[Ill.u.s.tration: A BALLAD OF THE "CONSt.i.tUTION"]

BY ROWAN STEVENS.

_This is the tale that was told to me _By a man with a tarry queue, _Who sat with a spy-gla.s.s in his hand, And gazed on the waters blue; His hair was white, but his eye was bright, And straight was his ancient form, And his brown old face bore many a trace Of the battle and the storm._

I.

Ay, she was a ship! She showed her heels To the swiftest of them all; She weathered many a raging gale And many a roaring squall.

And he--our Captain--of all the men That ever sailed the sea, There was never a one like Isaac Hull To handle a ship, said we.

It was in one pleasant summer-time That the _Const.i.tution_ lay A cable's length from an English ship In the bight of Lisbon Bay.

Between that British crew and us The looks were grim and glum, For we thought of the war a few years back, And hoped for a war to come.

The officers, though, were friendly still; They'd meet some day in war, And they knew they'd show their mettle then As they'd shown it well before.

Yes, even the Captains, they were chums-- Our own old Do-and-Dare And Dacres of that royal ship, The saucy _Guerriere_.

And many and many a time I've seen The two walk down the quay With their yard-arms locked and their chapeaus c.o.c.ked, To gaze on the ships at sea.

But Dacres turned to Hull one day And said: "They'd make a rare And even stand-up single fight, Those two ships lying there.

Now what say you--if the war does come, As I think right well it may.

And the _Const.i.tution_ and _Guerriere_ Should meet in single fray, I'll bet you a hundred pounds or so-- A thousand, if you like-- The _Const.i.tution_ that blessed day Will run or sink or strike."

But Hull said: "I am too poor a man To bet a sum like that.

Yet just for the sake of the stand you take I'll wager, say, a hat."

The Captains laughed as the bet was made, And the ships soon sailed away From their peaceful, pleasant anchorage In the bight of Lisbon Bay.

II.

The trouble came, as we knew it would, And a joyous crew were we When we said good-by to the old home port And weighed for a cruise at sea, For the Press Gang and the Search Eight We had vowed to bear no more, And we bade farewell to parley, And welcome we bade to war.

[Ill.u.s.tration: FOR MANY A MILE WE SAILED.]

Along the grim New England coast For many a mile we sailed, And ever a sharp lookout we kept, But never a ship we hailed, Till five days out, in the first dog-watch, We sighted a fleet of four Big fighting ships that made quick sail, And down upon us bore.

From their lofty yards and bending masts The bellying canvas blew, And at the mizzen-peak of each The English ensign flew.

"We can't fight too many odds," said Hull, "But ere the day be done We'll show how a well-manned Yankee ship Can lift up her heels and run."

Then we called all hands and we made all sail, And slowly drew away From the English vessels that followed us So sure of an easy prey.

But the winds were light and variable, Calm fell and all moved slow, The crowded boats of the English fleet Took the leading ship in tow.

I stood by the wheel with a gla.s.s and saw That ship come creeping on, And my heart was in my throat awhile, For I thought that we were gone.

And the leading ship full well I knew, The saucy _Guerriere_, And Dacres stood in her port fore chains With a confident, eager air.

And I felt despair for our gallant crew, And woe for our gallant bark, When a long cry came from the leadsman's lip-- "Thirty fathom, by the mark!"

Then a smile there came to the Captain's face, And a light to the Captain's eye, And he sent his kedges out ahead, And we made the capstan fly; We wet the sails down, fore and aft, We jumped at the bo's'n's call, We pumped out water for lightness' sake.

And stood by davit and fall; As every little catspaw came We worked for the weather-gage,

[Ill.u.s.tration: AND WE KEPT THOSE FELLOWS ALEE, ASTERN.]

And we kept those fellows alee, astern, And in an awful rage.

For three long days and three long nights They held us well, and then A squall came up in a thunder-cloud, And we fooled those Englishmen.

For they, as its ominous frown they saw, Stripped down to the bare, bare mast.

While we held on with our topsails full To the teeth of the rising blast; And, as it struck us, we shortened sail At the Captain's quick command.

But as soon as the full of its weight we felt We gave her all she'd stand; And merrily, merrily off we ran.

And ere the day was done We had left them all clean out of sight In the wake of the setting sun.

And Hull looked 'round the quarter-deck, And forward he looked, and aft, And he looked astern at the blank blue sea, And he looked at the sky--and laughed.

III.

And on through, the summer seas we bore, Until off stern Cape Clear Our ship fell in with a sloop-o'-war, A Yankee privateer.

We hailed for news, and the sloop hove to, And off her skipper came And boarded us in a leaky yawl, With his wrathful cheek aflame; For "Down to the south'ard he'd been chased By a powerful English ship That was just too slow for his flying heels, And just too big to whip."

We sent him back with a cheerful heart, And down to the south we swept.

And a sharp lookout o'er the vacant sea Alow and aloft we kept.

One August evening we bowled along In a fresh nor'wester breeze, The rigging sung as along we swung, And rough were the tumbling seas.

And I was sitting with pipe in hand Enjoying my watch below, When the masthead lookout hailed the deck With a loud and long, "Sail, ho!"

"Now, where away?" the Captain cried, And into the shrouds sprang we To gaze at a speck in the distance dim, Clear white on the blue, blue sea.

She stood along under easy sail, She made us out and tacked, She waited there with her headsails full, And her big maintopsail backed.

We picked her up hand over hand, We made her colors out-- That proud St. George's Cross we knew, And we longed for the coming hour.

And Hull sang out, "To quarters, men, For the foe we seek is there, By the look of her lines and the cut of her jib I know the _Guerriere_!"

We shortened sail and for action cleared, The flags to the breeze we threw, And at each masthead and the mizzen-peak The Yankee colors flew.

Up in the tops the topmen lay With musket and grenade, But down in the gloamy holds below The battle-lanterns played.

Stripped to the waist each sailor stood, His cutla.s.s in his hand, His long dirk loosened in its sheath, His feet in the scattered sand; The gunnels stood beside the guns, Their matches all aglow, With their ears bent back to the quarter-deck, And their eyes upon the foe.

As onward to the _Guerriere_ The _Const.i.tution_ swept, Between the lines of brawny tars Our first Lieutenant stepped: "To save you all from the press, my lads, For that we make the war, And each must fight for the flag to-day As he never fought before."

Then up spoke one of the gunner's mates, A grim old man was he, Who'd met the French and the Algerines In many a fight at sea, Whose cheek was rough with a hundred storms, And brown with a hundred suns: "If the quarter-deck will mind the flag, Why, we will mind the guns."

Oh, sweet to see was the English ship, As up in the wind she came, With her rigging silhouetted out Against the skies aflame.

Sudden she yawed, and from her bows A puff of smoke there blew, And, hurrying over their lofty arch, The plunging missiles flew, And each of us gripped his cutla.s.s tight, And each his muscles set, And each looked hard at the long bow-guns, But the Captain said, "Not yet."

Closer and closer drew the foe, Her shot flew thick and fast, And, singing around our heads, a storm Of musket-bullets pa.s.sed.

We drew well up on her weather-beam, And the roar of her guns rose higher, And we saw her gunner's matches gleam, And the Captain shouted, "Fire!"

With flash on flash, with a thunder crash, Rang out our red broadside, And the splinters broke from her sides of oak, And scattered far and wide.

The smoke rose up to the high dim trucks, As the battle fury spread, But the men stood true, and the flags still flew, In the mist at each masthead.

Deadly and fierce was the fire we poured Upon our st.u.r.dy foe, And a cheer we roared as by the board We saw her mizzen go.

Then around in the dying breeze she swung, And her bowsprit loomed o'erhead, And fouled in our mizzen shrouds she hung.

And the battle lightning spread; We heard the splinters fly below, Where her 32-pounders played, And the cabin was filled with smoke and flame From her furious cannonade.

Then, long dirk ready and cutla.s.s keen, Up, up to her side we start, But a breeze blows over the darkening sea And swings the ships apart; But readily 'round in the wind we go, And steadily on we fall.

With grape and shrapnel and solid shot, And pattering musket-ball.

And over her bows in the dusk we draw, While our terrible broadsides peal, And her lingering rolls the gaping holes In her shattered hull reveal.

Her sides we rend, our shot we send Through shroud and spar and stay.